Remembering
by WeepingPegasus
Summary: "There's always a lighthouse, there's always a man, there's always a city." Taking place after the events of the first Bioshock game, Jack Ryan has taken up the responsibility of raising the Little Sisters he saved from Rapture. After discovering a strange mark on his hand, he begins to have random nosebleeds, seeing memories that are his, yet not his own. And then he met Elizabeth


"Zachary Comstock"

"Booker Dewitt"

"No…I'm both…"

Being forced into the water, his lungs had begun to fill. No matter how much he wanted to struggle, he couldn't. He didn't have the will to go on. It had donned him that he and the man he fought—the man who took his daughter away from him—were one in the same. As bubbles from his last breath escaped his lips, he allowed the river to take him into his final baptism—cleansing him of his past sins and sins to be.

It's like what they say when you're about to die. How your entire begins to flash before your eyes like a recap of achievements and happy images. Except Booker saw all the bloodshed, the loss—suffering both inflicted on himself and the lives he took.

Wounded Knee. The Pinkertons—the loss of his beloved wife.

And Elizabeth…Anna…

_"__Are…Are you real?..."_

_"__I'm real enough"_

_"__Oh come dance with me, Mr. Dewitt!"_

_"__Booker…are you afraid of God?..."_

_ "__Elizabeth! __ "__Anna?! **Anna!"**_

_ "__Booker!"__ "__COMSTOCK!"_

_ "__Heads? __"Bring us the Girl"_ _"__GIVE ME BACK MY DAUGHTER!"_

_ "__The seed of the prophet shall sit the throne"_

_ "__**ELIIZABETH!" **__"__And drown in the flames the mountains of men" "Or tails?"_

_** "**__**ANNA!" **__"And wipe away the debt"_

**_"_****_ANNA!"_**

**_"_**_No…but I'm afraid of you"_

_"__Constants and Variables…", echoed Elizabeth's voice._

_Those were the last words that he could __reminisce_

_as Booker slipped into unconsciousness,_

_ending the story of_

_Booker Dewitt_

* * *

><p><em>Mondays are <strong>not<strong> my thing._

A sharp ray of light broke into his room through the eggshell white curtains, angling perfectly at his eyes—causing the burning sensation in his retinas and the worst beginning to a new day. Groggily, he sat up in bed, letting the bed sheets slide onto the base of his hips. He licked off the dry, crusty saliva at the corner of his mouth. Smacking his lips a few times, his eyes crawled to the hanging clock in his apartment bedroom.

_6:30? Wait no—_

"DAAAAAaaaaAAAAaaaAAAAD!", shouted a young girl's voice from the next room" "I'm gonna get late to SCHOOOoooOOOooOOOL!"

"Yeah...Yeah, sweetie", he said in his raspy morning voice. He ran his fingers through his rough dark hair, pulling hard at the base, hoping that the slight jolt could get wake him up.

_Mondays...ugh..._

Suddenly, his door bursted open allowing two little girls to run into his room, giggling in high shrill voices as they crawled over his bed, tugging at the covers.

"C'mon, daddy! Wake up!", yelled one girl as she jumped on her father's bed—her black ponytail, held only by a thin, indigo, silk ribbon, whipping around with each leap.

The other girl grabbed onto her father's right hand at the side of the bed, pulling with all her might to no avail; only to slide on the wood floor and land on her back, still grasping onto his ring and pinkie fingers.

"L—" The bed springs creaked loudly as she came down again.

"Leta, I'm—" she seems to jump harder than the last as her knees come to her chest midair.

"Leta, plea—" Her hair is flicking at the ceiling.

"I'm awake!", he called out to the little girl. Leta began to stop and stood before her father on top of his bed, hands on the hips of her school uniform. She couldn't help but give a great smile of success and even though she had been jumping for some time, Leta didn't break a sweat.

The other girl was still lying on the ground, tugging at his hand, completely oblivious to the situation.

"Alright girls, let daddy get a clean shirt and I'll bring you to scho—" his moment of control and tranquility ended shortly as two more voices entered the room.

_OH COME ON!_

"Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!" "Did not! "Did too!"

If he didn't intervene, this childish argument may go on for the next two months.

"Girls—GIRLS!", their father bellowed. "What's going on?!"

The two girls that entered, like the others, were wearing matching school uniforms. As the stood before the others, they couldn't help but notice the cause of their bitter argument. One of the sisters had a red ribbon and a brush tangled within a foliage of dark hair.

"Veronica messed up my hair in my sleep!"

"Nuh-unh", the adjacent sister retorted. "I didn't go anywhere near your hair last night!"

"But this is YOUR brush! Why would I have YOUR brush?!"

"Maybe cuz you're a thief, Anya!"

"No, I'm NOT!" she screamed. "DAAAAAaaaaAAAAAaaaD! Veronica is a LIAR! She ALWAYS lies!"

Suddenly Anya screams as Veronica grabs the handle of the brush and yanks hard. Again, Leta begins to jump on the bed, taking joy in the midair experience and the flying pillows. His room was at the epicenter of chaos. As a single father, raising not one girl—but five girls had been either a blessing or a curse in disguise. It's been years since he adopted them, taking them away from the under water city—no—the under water prison. Away from the Big Daddies, the splicers, ADAM, and the damned prison itself—Rapture. In the kindness of his heart, Jack Ryan was gave these girls a new chance—a new hope. In the small apartment in New York, Jack sat there befuddled on where to start—what to even say to these girls.

Leta was still jumping on the bed.

Anya and Veronica were still arguing.

And Masha was...Masha is...uh...

Jack looked down on the floor to see Masha still tugging on his arm, squirming on the ground like a puppy trying to play tug-of-war with the much larger dog.

_I really...REALLY...hate Mondays..._

"DAAAAAAAaaaaaAAAAAD!" a voice called out as it approached the room. What's taking you so—"

A fifth girl walked in, and although she had the same 10-year old appearance as the other girls, she this one was different. Unlike her sisters, she had a different attitude around her. Instead of dark hair, she had golden blonde hair with bright blue eyes that matched the bow in her hair. When she spoke there was a slight hint of a French accent. She stood by the doorway, arms crossed—eyebrow raised and mouth slightly agape at the chaotic display before her.

"Girls—GIRLS!" she yelled.

The other girls instantly stopped their antics, staring at her silently as if waiting for further directions.

"Veronica, help Anya with her hair. You got it stuck. Get it out. No arguing. Leta, there's some extra food on the table—and Masha, do give daddy some space, he needs to get ready too, okay?"

As commanded, the girls dispersed except for Masha. She was still lying on the floor, still unaware of the situation around, only fixated on Jack's right hand. With his arm, he picked her up and held her close as he got out of bed.

"Thanks, Sally", he sighed. "Don't know what I'd do without you"

Sally turned around and began to head out.

"I made you your coffee the best I could so there night still be some black bits in it" She pivoted her head back and looked at him. "We've got 10 minutes but I don't think our teacher would punish us harshly for being tardy—maybe just a warning."

Then she stepped out of his room, door still swung open. Walking around in his boxers, Jack looked around for his loafers, still holding on to Masha.

"Daddy, how long have you had this tattoo?", she asked innocently.

Putting her down, he stared at his right wrist, the hand that she had been fiddling with. He let out a calm sigh.

"I got these chains a long time ago...Maybe I'll tell you when I pick you up from school" he smiled and looked at her.

Masha looked at his wrist and laughed.

"No daddy, the big one on the back of your hand"

"Masha, c'moooooon!" Leta called out.

"I'm coming!", she replied as she happily ran out.

_The back of my hand? But I don't—_

Slowly, Jack turned over his hand. His eyes widened in shock and confusion. The marking that was on the back of his hand was not a tattoo, but rather a branding. The darkened symbol looked old as stained the skin of his hand. The branding looked more of a reminder than an accident or a symbol of ownership. A branding of two letters: A D

"What the hell?", Jack muttered. A sharp pain struck the back of his head. All he could hear was a loud ringing and his vision became distorted. A warm liquid dripped out of his nose.

"I've...I've always...had this..." he whispered.

Jack pressed his fingers to his nose and stared down at the blood that covered his fingertips. Looking back at his hand, the branding was gone.

_I really...**REALLY** fucking hate Mondays_


End file.
